Blanket
by mrsremusjohnlupin
Summary: After months spent drinking herself to sleep every night, Seamus drops in to lend comfort. Even when it is not wanted. Lavender/Seamus


The only sound that could be heard was the constant flow of rain pelting the window. There was no thunder, just water gushing from the sky. Lavender was alone in her darkened flat, sitting upon the window seat with her forehead resting against the cold glass. Apart from the blurry lights from London, she saw her.

Well, not herself _exactly_, because she had refused to look at her reflection since The Battle of Hogwarts. But what she saw in the reflection from the window was the bottle in her scarred hand. Her knees were pulled up, and she had the bottle of Vodka resting on top of them.

As she moved the bottle to her lips again and took a gigantic gulp, she looked at the bricks on the outside of her building. Squeezing her eyes shut as the warm liquid slid down her throat, Lavender sighed and wiped her mouth with the back of her free hand, putting the bottle onto her knees once more.

Life had been so simple before the war. It had only been six months, yet that had been enough time for everything to go wrong. Complications like she never would have believed arose.

All she could remember from that night were the events leading up to the balcony. When she recalls watching the light go out in Collin's eyes, her heart sinks and eyes close on their own. Every last bit of energy she has is put into just thinking about what happened on that night six months ago.

As she had fallen from the balcony, things had blurred around her. She had heard a huge crack, accompanied by sharp pain shooting through her whole body. Unable to move and not even willing to try, she had felt as something sunk into her neck. If she could have screamed, she would have. The claws of the thing biting her dug into her back, mutilating her. Then, it was gone, and everything went black.

Lavender brings the bottle to her lips and takes a long gulp before coughing and replacing it onto her knees. Even though all of the heroes from the war got compensation for their sacrifice during the dark times, Lavender needed something to occupy her mind. She also could not stand being around any magical folk. They would take one look at her scars and just _know_. Their faces were laced with pity and disgust for what she had become. So, she found a job in a Muggle pub, cleaning up after the people finished their drinks. At least, she got a discount on liquor, and when she was gawked at, the disgust was just for her ugliness, not the fact that every month she turned into a monster.

The day Lavender arrived home from Saint Mungos, exactly one week from the Battle, she had smashed all of her mirrors. Without having to endure looking at her face every day, she was spared. If she had to observe herself and all of the scars that now covered her face, back, and shoulders, she would drive herself crazy. It must have been some sort of cruel irony that, one year ago, Lavender would have teased someone with so many scars. Now, it was she who possessed the nauseating features and inability to smile.

Everything was blurred as she stared out at the city. Lights were on in so many places, and it was already ten. Some people just could not stop themselves from working to death. Lavender had to take a week off every month for before and after the full moon. She had the distinct feeling that her boss was going to fire her. As if it would be too hard to find another job.

The mornings were the hardest. She would have to pry herself from bed, avoiding looking at her scarred arms as the bedcovers were pulled back. Her first thought would be of Collin, then her scars. That was when she would begin to wonder why she was even breathing. Fighting, when she had nothing left to fight for. She had done her part in the war, in ensuring children's safety and lives. Now, she suffered for it everyday.

Snorting, Lavender downed three giant swigs of the Vodka, letting out a breath as her senses became even more dulled. With her head still rested on the window, she let tears fill her eyes and let them run down her cheeks. For all she knew, she sat there for an hour, letting herself cry.

It was only when she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist on wood did she wipe the water off her cheeks. She did not move, though, instead putting the bottle back to her lips. Whoever it was would give up and go away. The few people who had bothered to try and contact her after the war were told that she just 'needed some time' and had left her. All of her school chums believed her when she told them that was all that she needed. In truth, she did not know what she needed. Something that was not the nothing she had. But the nothing was all she wanted.

Despite the fact that she thought the person would leave, the knocking continued, even louder this time. It was also accompanied by a voice. "Lavender open up, I know you are in there."

She squinted at the raindrops on the window, slamming into it and making a steady rhythm of noise. She brought the bottle to her lips and realized it was empty. Ready for another, she moved her feather-light legs and began to stumble toward her refrigerator. When she got there and opened the door, the sudden brightness shocked her and she grabbed the first bottle her hand closed around, unable to actually see anything at all.

As the door closed, it rattled, masking the sound of her flat door being unlocked with magic and being opened. Lavender stood in her kitchen/living room looking at the figure that was standing in her doorway. She squinted at him and then cocked her head, which turned the world into a dizzy spin cycle. Even in her state, she knew that there was no way she could cover it up that she was not doing alright. Though, the amount of alcohol she had consumed had her not caring.

"What are you doing here?" she spoke slow and soft, wondering if he could even hear her over the rain.

He did not reply, though, and all she wanted was more to drink. So, she just shrugged and turned her back on him, taking the bottle opener from the top of the counter where she had left it and cracking open the…_ something_ she had gotten from the fridge. All she knew was that it was some kind of hard liquor.

When she faced the door again, she saw that it had been closed. The soaking wet bloke was still standing there, though.

"You are dripping on my carpet," she slurred even though she did not even really mind. She just did not want him there, seeing her. Even if it was dark, the streetlight outside her flat cast enough of a glow to highlight her scars. She could tell by looking at her arms that her face would look just as bad as it did in the light, maybe even worse.

He did not even reply as she stumbled past him and to the window seat once more. However, when she attempted to get her legs in the same position they had been in, she could not seem able to get them to stay upright. So she let them flop over, toward the window.

A sudden presence by her side had her peek up, her sights blurring as she took in the young Irish bloke. He was looking down at her, with an odd expression on his face. Not one of pity or disgust, but of understanding. As if he had ever been as pitiful as she was right then.

"Can I help you?" she raised the bottle to her lips but missed, hitting her nose instead. "Oh," she moved it down and tilted the bottle up, feeling the liquid sear her throat.

"I should be asking the same question," he spoke slow and soft in that wonderful accent of his.

"All I need is some more time to myself, so I can get used to the idea and move on," it was something she had told the people who visited her. It always worked too. Especially when she forced a smile at the end of it.

The guy watching her raised his eyebrows. "The idea of what? So much alcohol that you pass out?"

Lavender sighed and put a hand on her face. "Seamus, you do not understand. I just need some time is all."

"You have had six months to get adapted 'to the idea and move on.' Lavender, this is not moving on. Whenever I ask about you, no one knows what is going on. They say you will not answer the door or anything."

"I'm a werewolf now, Seamus," she ran a finger along the top of the bottle and was mesmerized by it. Sober, she would never tell that to anyone. She had her eyes move to his, and she was annoyed that he was watching her. "Do not look at me Seamus," she spoke the words so careful, as if they were about to break. "Turn away."

He did not. Instead, his eyes locked with hers and she huffed out a breath of annoyance.

"Why do you not want me to look at you?" his question was slow, as if he doesn't think she can comprehend his words if he speaks faster.

Her eyes fill with tears and, not for the first time, did she wish that she was a happy drunk instead of a sad one. Since he did not turn, she did, pressing her face to the glass window. A warm hand on her shoulder forces her to break away from the comfort of the burry city lights, and then, his face is in front of hers, Lavender's eyes semi-focused on his.

Just the weight of his stare is enough to make her want to smack him. "I'm hideous! Leave me alone! Go away, Seamus!" she screamed it in his face, but it did not move away from hers. To make her point, she put a hand against his chest and pushed against him with all of her strength. He does not budge. "Just leave me alone!" tears flow from her eyes and she hit him, hoping that will make him get up and go. It does not, so she hit him again. Then again, until she started sloshing her drink down his shirt because she began pounding into his chest with both fists.

His arms trap her, and she is unable to move as confusion settles over her. Whatever attempts she had made at making Seamus leave, they were for nothing. Because now he was _hugging _her.

A moment later, though, the sobbing began. The boy she had been trying to push away was the one which she now clung to, burying her face in his chest and taking in his musky scent. He was still wet from being out in the rain, but somehow warm.

Time never had been her strong subject. The past six months, though, the only thing she was sure of was that if it was night or it was not, and if the full moon was out. Every spare minute not working, Lavender used it to get plastered. When she got that way, she never knew how much time slipped by without her notice. But when she sobs finally subsided, Lavender knew that it had not been a short amount of time that she had wept for. Her body was aching and sore, and her eyes felt as if they were swelling inside of her brain.

No matter how tired she got, Lavender would not let herself sleep without alcohol in her system. So when Seamus put his arms under her, lifted her as if she weighed nothing, and then laid her out on her bed, Lavender knew she was glad for downing that whole bottle of Vodka. However, when she spoke to Seamus in that half-asleep state right before falling asleep, she was not.

"In the morning, I'll say I want to be alone, but I do not."

"That is good," was his reply as he slid next to her on the bed, covering them with the blanket that had been on the couch. She wondered when he had had the time to go and get that. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Then, he leaned across the small expanse of the bed and placed a light kiss on her lips after she drifted off.

* * *

_Author's note;_

Wooo! For my second favorite coupling! ^^

I wrote this one a couple months ago, and **LOVED **writing it.

My wonderfulfantastical Beta here was **_Chatterbox Angel_**, who I lend my virtual cookie… It's a _magical_ cookie.

If **you** want a magic cookie, press that ickle button and feed me some back, yo. ;)


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